


Love Growing Wild

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Farmer Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, M/M, Modern Setting, Political Activist Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: Fallen Angels Farm on the outskirts of the Metro DC area is home to Castiel, Balthazar, and Gabriel Novak. The three brothers came from a long line of commercial farmers but broke away to try their hand in a Farm to Table setting. Castiel, loves the smell of the earth and growing things, but his biggest passion is cooking. He runs the restaurant side of the business.Dean Winchester thrives on city living. He is a political activist and spends his time advocating that no child should go hungry. Coming out of an unsatisfying relationship, he isn’t looking for love. With the promise of publicity for his cause, he agrees to challenge a local farmer/chef to make a nutritious meal for what SNAP recipients get on a daily basis.Cas thinks Dean is a stuffed shirt who is brash and arrogant. Dean thinks Castiel is pretentious and lacks the ability to have fun. What starts as a rivalry, turns into a working relationship. And maybe, just maybe these two will find a way to make it work.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 47
Kudos: 139
Collections: FicFacer$ 2020





	1. Hello Darling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GiGis_Willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiGis_Willow/gifts).



> This is my story request from GiGis_Willow. I want to thank her for her story idea and for having the faith to bid on me to write this. Her donation to Random Acts is greatly appreciated.
> 
> A special thanks to my editor, Stephanie. She keeps me anchored and fixes all my glaring mistakes. See no question mark needed... LOL

Dean glared across the communal table at his friend and co-activist. Charlie blinked back at him innocently. “It’ll bring awareness to the SNAP program, Dean,” she said, somehow knowing she had him by the short hairs. 

“We’ve done challenges before, why does it have to be this guy?” Dean glanced down at the colored photograph in the Washington Post. The headline on the first page of the entertainment section read Local Chef Takes Farm to Table to a Different Level. “Did you even read the article? He’s some spoiled rich kid who is playing gentlemen farmer. I’d lay odds he sits in his plush home all day while his minions do all the work.” The picture showed the handsome man kneeling in a garden, holding a bunch of heirloom carrots. It was obviously a publicity shot. Castiel Novak wouldn’t be the type to get his hands dirty. 

“I did read the article,” Charlie said haughtily. “And I also did some background research on him. Yes, his family made a ton of money in the commercial farming world, but Castiel and his two brothers broke away from them a few years back to start their own business. They raise cows, goats, and chickens, plus they grow their own herbs, vegetables, and even mushrooms.” Dean loved this side of Charlie. Her passion and enthusiasm were what led him to his current career at FRAC, the Food Research and Action Center. 

He’d graduated from KU in his late twenties with a degree in Political Science and took the first job that came available. It only took him a couple of years to realize working for lobbyists killed a small piece of his soul every time he clocked into work. Meeting Charlie at a random party gave him the strength to quit his high-paying job and join the ranks as an activist. Now, he lived in a crowded brownstone with six other people, but he was proud of himself. He was the Senior Child Hunger Analyst for the organization. He and his brother, Sam, had gone hungry so many nights growing up on the road with their father and this was how he could help so other children didn’t have to suffer. 

He looked at Charlie and her smile was hopeful. “What is your plan?”

“I talked to Meg down at the Post and she thought it would be a cool follow-up piece to have you challenge this Castiel guy to feed his customers on what SNAP recipients get. You would be there to answer Meg’s questions about the program. It’s a win-win situation.” She was practically dancing in her chair. Dean knew Meg. The woman had been with the _Washington Post_ for years and was a respected journalist. She was also snarky and had the habit of getting on Dean’s last nerve. 

“Wait, I would be there? Where?” 

“At Castiel’s farm,” she said, looking at him like he was a few French fries short of a Happy Meal. 

“Oh, no. I’ll do an interview, but a farm... come on, Charlie, can you really see me around animals? Dean didn’t do animals. They smelled and had teeth. He actively avoided the stray cat that some of his housemates fed. 

“Think of the opportunity to get our message out there. Not only here in the Metro area, but nationally. The Post reaches a million households weekly and that’s not even including their Internet presence.” He looked heavenward as if hoping for an angel to swoop down and save him. A farm. Jesus. 

“Fine, set it up, but if I get some disease from his cows or goats, you’re responsible.” 

Later that night, his phone rang, and he groaned at the name on the screen. He wanted to ignore it. “Hello.” 

“Dean, glad I caught you. I have a thing to attend Friday and I was hoping you could join me.” 

“This Friday?” Dean schooled his tone to mask his true feelings. “Sorry, Michael, I have plans.” 

“Come on, Sweetheart, for old times' sake.” 

“Please don’t call me that.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He could get through a simple phone call without losing his shit. For Sam, he reasoned. “Michael, I will be civil to you because you work with my brother, but I’m not going out with you, not Friday, not ever.” 

“Dean, we both made some mistakes, but --” 

“No, the mistake was thinking you wanted the same things I did. I’ve got to go.” Dean slid his thumb over the screen to end the call. Michael would go down as _the_ worst relationship he’d ever had. He’d met the man at the party the law firm had thrown when Sam made partner. Michael was on the fast track to becoming partner himself. Sam had told Dean that Michael was ruthless in the courtroom. It bled over into his private life. Michael wanted to control everything. The way Dean dressed, where they ate dinner, and what functions they attended. He’d told Dean he was proud of the work he did as an activist but after a few months, Dean noticed how Michael made Dean’s career sound like a pet project or a hobby. As the relationship dragged on, Dean knew he was being used as a trophy partner. Nothing more. Michael didn’t want happily ever after. In fact, he never mentioned their future at all. 

He groaned. Enough about Michael. They were done. It had been a civil breakup. Dean went to Michael’s apartment, gave him back his key, and told him to have a great life without him. He didn’t even give the other man time to argue. 

Over the next few days, Dean was busy helping a young Democratic congresswoman preparing for a town hall meeting about school lunch reform. So busy, that he’d forgotten about his upcoming trip to the fancy-smancy farm in Virginia. It might as well be outer Mongolia for all Dean cared. When he thought of farms, he envisioned cow manure, muddy pig sties, and miles of corn fields. When Charlie reminded him, it was the night before the interview, and he had no time to come up with an excuse not to go. How was it that Charlie could pretty much talk him into anything? 

“Charlie, you ever see the movie Children of the Corn?” Dean asked as they waited on the sidewalk for Meg to pick them up for the trek to Old MacDonald’s. His friend’s glare had him zipping his lips. He was missing his morning run with Sam around the National Mall. It was a thing they’d been doing for a couple years now and he enjoyed it. 

A bright blue Honda CR-V pulled to a stop in front of them. Meg smiled at them. Since another person was in the passenger seat, Charlie and Dean piled into the back. “Guys, this is Max. He’s going to be our photographer today.” 

Dean thought the guy was kind of young to be a photographer for the Post, but what did he know? He was a nice-looking kid. If he was only a few years younger... because he was definitely pinging Dean’s gaydar.

The drive took the about ninety minutes, even with Meg driving like a maniac. Soon, the DC landscape gave way to quiet suburbs, and then open farmland. She finally turned off on a rural two-lane road. “Almost there,” Meg said as she slowed the vehicle. A large white sign reading Fallen Angels Farm sat next to a long gravel driveway. “Fallen Angels? Like Lucifer? This is going to be interesting then.” Dean piped up from the back seat. Up until then, he’d let Charlie and Meg carry the conversation. 

“The three brothers that run the farm were all named after angels. When they pulled away from the family’s commercial farming empire, they chose that name,” Meg informed him as the tires crunched over the gravel. White rail fencing was on both sides of them and Dean saw a bunch of black and white cows in one field and a variety of goats in the other. Animals. Stinky, biting animals. 

“Huh, interesting,” he mumbled as the main complex came into view. It wasn’t what he had been expecting. Everything was neat. Raised beds were set around bleached rock walkways. A large, red barn was off to the right, but Dean had a feeling no animals inhabited it, since it was pristine. An array of tables and chairs adorned with umbrellas the same hue as the barn were in the center of it all.

Meg pulled to a stop by the barn. “Castiel is expecting us and promised us a nice brunch.” 

“How much is that going to cost us?” Dean asked as he exited the CR-V. 

“Just some good honest labor,” came a deep voice behind him. Porn worthy, Dean thought as he turned. Then frowned. It was him. 

“Castiel, nice to see you again,” Meg said, hugging the man and kissing his cheek. When she pulled back, she introduced them. “This is Charlie Bradbury and Dean Winchester from FRAC, and you’ve met Max.” 

“It’s nice to meet you both. I respect your work.” He sounded sincere, but Dean knew how rich people were. It was nice to think about helping the under-privileged until their taxes actually _paid_ for programs for the poor. Then all bets were off. They’d rather give their money to missionaries to help third world countries than to give SNAP assistance to single moms and children in the US. 

“Before we get to brunch, I’d like to give you the tour,” Castiel said, including both Dean and Charlie in his gaze. Whoa, those eyes were even bluer in real life. 

“Since we’ve seen the place, we’ll follow along and get some shots, if that’s okay?” 

Castiel smiled at Meg. His teeth were brilliant white against his tanned skin and stubble. Dean rubbed his own smooth cheek. Guess their visit didn’t warrant a shave. 

“You passed the pastures as you came in. We raise Holstein Friesians, it’s a Dutch breed well known for milk production. Our cows are milked by hand daily and we use that milk to make our own cheeses, as well as other dairy products like yogurt, sour cream, and butter. Our goats are Alpines. We tried Nubians, but they were found to be too large and loud for our needs.” Dean stopped listening as the man led them down a path. His eyes drifted down to the man’s butt in those faded jeans. They weren’t tight enough to be uncomfortable, but snug enough to show his assets. 

“And here are our ladies.” Castiel had stopped them beside a chicken coop. “We have several different breeds and these girls give us about three dozen eggs daily.” Even Dean had to admit the pen was clean. 

“Do you eat them?” Dean asked, staring at one fat chicken that had come close to inspect the newcomers. 

“Of course, I use the eggs for a variety of dishes.” 

“No, I meant the chickens.” Castiel’s expression was incredulous and he actually took a step between Dean and the coop. 

“No, definitely not. My girls are egg layers.” 

“You against eating meat or something?” He caught Charlie mouthing the word ‘abort’, but hey, Dean was just curious. 

“I’m not a vegetarian, if that’s what you’re asking. We are not set up for butchering here. Our stock is raised for sustainability and what they can offer us. The meat we use for our farm to table meals is outsourced through an organic farm just north of here.” The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds until Castiel’s gaze broke away. “Through there, are the orchards. We have a several types of trees. Apples, pear, figs, and we’re trying nectarines. Those are only two years old and haven’t produced yet. Our hives are also kept in the orchards.”

As he was speaking, Dean noticed a man dressed in typical beekeepers’ garb coming from that direction. Castiel smiled again and for a split second, Dean wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of one of those. As the guy got close, he removed his head covering. Dean noted the gray hair and beard. Oh, Daddy, Dean mused. “This is Cain, he’s our apiarist.” 

“Don’t be modest, Castiel,” the man’s voice sounded cultured. “He loves our hives and is in the honey shack several times a day helping with bottling, labeling, tasting... mostly tasting.” The man laughed softly, and his expression was fond. Huh, Dean thought. Wonder if they’re a thing? 

The last thing Castiel wanted was another newspaper story about him, but Meg could be persistent. In more ways than one, Castiel mused as he watched her familiar Honda coming up the drive. He’d had to tell her no when she made it clear that she wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay. Her words, not his. 

He’d been covertly studying Dean Winchester throughout the tour and he couldn’t get a read on the man. Meg had given him very little background on Winchester and other than being an activist at FRAC, she didn’t have much else. That fact, in itself, showed the man had compassion, but his questions and overall demeanor made Castiel think he was a pretty face covering an ugly interior. 

As the tour ended at the barn, he opened the door to reveal his pride and joy. The building was built to farm specifications, but no livestock had ever been inside. The back was a fully stocked restaurant kitchen and the front was for his events. He had three regular seatings a week, plus they’d opened it up for small gatherings and weddings. The long table in the center was currently set for brunch. He was pleased to see his family finishing up the preparations. “Now, for the labor part of your tour,” he nodded toward Charlie and Dean. “If you will be so kind as to assist me with picking a few things for our meal.” 

He handed each one a basket and led them to the strawberry beds first. He showed them how to gently twist the fruit from the plant. After that, they gathered green onions and bell peppers for the omelets he was going to prepare. Charlie, the likeable redhead, was talkative and asked a lot of questions about their crops. Dean had remained silent since the exchange about the chickens. 

Back inside the barn, Castiel handed Claire the strawberries to wash and drizzle with balsamic vinegar. He gave the vegetables to Jack to clean and prep. “This is my family,” Castiel explained as he pointed out each one. “Claire and Jack are my children. Jack is a junior at the local high school, and Claire is in her third year at Virginia Tech. Back there,” he pointed, “are my brothers, Gabriel and Balthazar.” He was glad they were joining him this morning. They were the charmers. Castiel would much rather be by himself with the bees, goats, or chickens. Or alone with his kids.

Once everyone had said their ‘nice to meet yous’, Castiel asked their guests to sit at the table. Claire brought the large bowl of strawberries to the table and Castiel set up his portable omelet station. Jack rolled out the cart with all the ingredients to choose and he went around the table taking orders. During this time, Gabriel and Balthazar took a seat at the table. He was glad his brothers were there to support him. He wasn’t a people person and his social skills were almost non-existent. 

“So, Dean-o, what is this challenge you want to throw down for my baby brother?” Gabriel wasn’t one to beat around the bush. 

“Gabriel, can we let our guests eat first?” Castiel gave him a pleading look. 

“No, it’s cool,” Dean said. “My job is to see that school children are fed nutritious meals, but that’s only half of the issues we have in today’s society. Oftentimes, the only meal these kids get is at school.” He paused and Castiel noted his brothers were interested in what Dean was saying. “The SNAP program helps low income families supplement their food costs.” 

“SNAP is basically food stamps, correct?” Balthazar asked, taking a sip of his mimosa. 

“Correct. SNAP stands for Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program.” Castiel watched how Dean’s focus moved from one to another. He was good at this. There was passion in his voice and Castiel knew he’d be doing more research before he went to bed. “A family of four gets less than four dollars per person in the household, per day. That’s for three meals.” 

Claire sat back in her chair, a stunned look on her face. “Wow, how can they manage? That’s nothing.” 

“We spend more than that on an average cup of coffee,” Dean said sadly. 

“And how can we help?” This time it was Jack who asked the question. 

“This is Meg and Charlie’s brainchild, so I’ll let them explain.” Dean picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip before cutting into his omelet. 

“I’ve covered several of FRAC’s fundraisers and have gotten to know Charlie pretty well. After reading the article I did on your Farm to Table business, she approached me.” Meg nodded to Charlie and she took over. 

“Dean and I live with five others. Last year, we decided to live off what a SNAP recipient typically receives. At the beginning of every week, we all count out our money and sit down together to come up with a menu. We take turns shopping and cooking. It’s a challenge to come up with inexpensive meals that are good for you. I had an idea to bring that challenge to you.” 

“While I’m up for the challenge, my ingredients are grown here. It would be difficult to put a price tag on our ‘groceries’,” Castiel said, unable to stop himself from using air quotes. 

“We don’t want to interfere with your business, so we thought the challenge would be for your family members only. Dean would be along for grocery store runs and meal planning sessions,” Charlie responded and Castiel had to admit that it would definitely be interesting to see if they could do it. 

“Well?” Castiel looked from Claire to Jack, and then to his brothers. He got four nods. “Okay, I guess we’re in.” 

“Great. Max will be riding along doing video shorts and photos. He will give me a report daily and I’ll put together the article.” 

“How long is this assignment?” Balthazar asked, his meal forgotten. 

Meg looked at Charlie and she grinned. “One week. I’ve cleared Dean’s schedule and he’s all yours for the duration, starting tomorrow.” 

Beside her, Dean sputtered. “Wait? What? You didn’t tell me... Charlie, I have stuff... I can’t just drive out here every day... Jesus.” Castiel watched as the petite redhead seemed to communicate with the attractive man with just her eyes and facial expressions. He slumped in his chair. “Fine.” 

“You don’t have to drive out every day from DC,” Gabriel piped up. “We have a guest room in the main house.” Castiel’s eyes widened. The main house was his and his children’s. Gabriel and Balthazar both shared a duplex in the small town of Lovettsville, less than five miles from the farm, but the house was his sanctuary.

“I can’t...” 

Dean started, but Meg beamed at him, cutting him off. “That’s perfect. It will save Dean the drive time and gas.” If Castiel wasn’t mistaken, Dean wasn’t enthused about his new living arrangements. Then again, neither was Castiel. 

“Since Max here will be tagging along, he can sleep in the loft,” Gabriel said, pointing up. We have a bunkroom of sorts up there.”

Long after the farm was devoid of guests and his kids were in their rooms doing what young adults did, Castiel sat in his office. He’d fallen down a rabbit hole of information on SNAP, FRAC, and inner-city school lunch programs. He had no idea. None. He’d been blessed to be born to a wealthy family and had never gone hungry. While his childhood wasn’t ideal, he didn’t have to count that as one of his issues. He looked away from the screen for an instant and his gaze lit on the family photos framed neatly on the wall. The one of his father standing beside Castiel and his brothers drew his eye. 

Chuck Novak was the youngest of three brothers. While Zachariah and Luke threw themselves into the family business, Chuck wrote books. He didn’t care that the Novak legacy turned into one of the biggest commercial farming empires in the country. He was lost in his own world until he met and married his beloved Becky. She gave him three sons and then when Castiel was just an infant, died of a brain aneurism. 

No, Castiel never went hungry, but once Chuck sank deeper into his books, his sons starved. Not for food, but attention. Boarding schools and stiff, formal holidays were normal. It was a given that the three siblings would be pulled into the fold that was Novak Corporation. Not farm, corporation. 

Castiel rolled his tired shoulders and shut down his computer. Tomorrow would be a busy day and he was usually up by sunrise. Yawning, he turned out the lights and walked down the graveled path between the raised beds toward the house. The mild evening breeze sent the aroma of herbs and loamy soil to his nose. He inhaled. He never tired of it. 

The next morning, he poured a generous serving of coffee into his stainless steel travel mug and left the house. Already, a few of the farm hands they employed were arriving. He waved to Garth, a tall, lanky worker, who was letting the goats out to pasture. The minivan with the Virginia Tech logo on its side was parked in the lot, so Castiel knew his interns had arrived. They were spending two weeks here to learn about organic farming. Since the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences was three hours away in Blacksburg, the five students were staying in an RV on the back of the property. Castiel could see they were already at work in the milking shed. 

He unlocked the barn and turned on the overhead lights. Tonight, he’d be preparing a tasting menu for a wedding party. His farm to table meals were only done Thursday to Saturday with a Sunday brunch twice monthly. He sat down at the long, trestle style table with his tablet and was soon lost in planning for the bride and groom. 

As usual, he’d left the large barn doors open. In late April, it was still chilly in the early morning, but he liked the feeling of still being connected to the happenings around the farm. The loud rumble of an engine drew his attention. Benny, from Lafitte Farms, wasn’t due to deliver their weekly meat order for another hour or so. It didn’t sound like his diesel truck, but he didn’t think they were expecting any other deliveries. He stood and went to the entrance. 

A sleek, black car was coming to a stop by his small sunflower garden. He narrowed his eyes. While obviously a classic, it was a gas guzzler. All the farm’s vehicles were hybrids. You couldn’t promote organic produce and animal husbandry and drive cars with a big carbon footprint. Because the driver’s side was facing away from him, he couldn’t see who was driving. 

Guests to the farm were encouraged, but they usually didn’t come so early. He was about to go greet the newcomer, but Gabriel beat him to it. Then the driver got out and Castiel’s frown deepened. Dean Winchester. The man took metrosexual to another level. Yesterday, he’d been dressed in stiff jeans, loafers, and a button-down dress shirt. He’d looked out of place on the farm. Curious, Castiel moved closer as the man spoke with his brother and opened the trunk of his car. 

Today’s ensemble included another pair of jeans, these looked more worn, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a plain tee. The jeans accentuated the man’s bowed legs. Castiel’s mind went south for all of five seconds before he reined it in. His own hand had been his bed partner for the last... God, had it really been two years? “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. 

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” 


	2. Strawberry Wine

Since he didn’t want to lose it in front of Meg and Max, Dean waited until they were back at the house before unloading on Charlie. He slammed the door and felt a little guilty wh en she winced. “A week, Charlie?  _ I _ _ t’s just a simple interview, Dean. Meet with him and help him with the challenge, Dean _ . Thanks for blindsiding me.” Yes, he stooped low enough to mimic her.

Her lip trembled and he felt like a total ass. “I’m sorry. I knew you’d say no and Meg... Meg promised to give us a full page. Now that summer is almost here, the school lunch program will take a back burner. This is our chance to keep pushing, Dean.” 

It made sense, but a  week? On a farm. With dirty, smelly animals. And  _ him _ . Perfect fucking farmer, perfect fucking family, and perfect... well, his looks had nothing to do with  _ anything _ . He was a dad and where there were kids, usually meant a wife somewhere. Straight. Not that Dean was interested. Because he wasn’t.  Sur e,  h e was kind of  hot, but so was Michael and look how that turned out.

He huffed and then shrugged. “You owe me,” he said in a softer tone that told her she was forgiven.

“Laundry for a month?” 

It was an offer he couldn’t turn down. “Damn right.” 

Upstairs, in his small room, he took out his suitcase and opened it on the bed. He stared into his closet for a time. His usual work attire was dress slacks and button-downs, sometimes even a suit and tie, but he’d be on a farm. Jeans and several t-shirts were neatly folded and packed. Underwear, toiletries, and socks followed. In the back of his closet was a pair of fairly new Doc Martens. He didn’t have work boots, so those would have to do. 

Once it was zipped up, he put it by the door. Then as an afterthought, he leaned his guitar case against it. He’d bet money, they’d all be in bed by dark-thirty, and he’d need something to keep himself entertained. Did they even have Internet? 

After a dinner of tacos, he had Kevin drive to the storage facility where he kept his pride and joy. His Impala didn’t see much action in DC, so he thought he’d at least get a short road trip out of this  incarceration . 

A quick phone call to his brother was the only thing he had left to do before leaving in the morning. “Sammy, how’s it hanging?”

“Busy as hell.” Sam sounded tired. When he’d made partner, it meant most of his waking moments were spent at the law firm. Dean thought the promotion would make life easier for his younger brother, but it was the exact opposite. They did still manage to meet most mornings for their  run and they used that time to catch up. “How was the trip to the farm?”

“Different,” Dean said honestly. “It was a lot cleaner than I expected.”

Sam laughed. “I told you so.” When he’d told Sam about the challenge, Sam had not only known about the place, but had eaten there with a client. “The food is fantastic.”

“Yeah, he made us brunch.” Dean loved to  cook and he had to be creative with his limited funds, but Novak had made a simple omelet taste like heaven on a plate. He could only do so much with groceries bought at the dollar store and food outlets.

“Did he accept the challenge?”

“I do n’t  think Me g Masters would have let him say no.” Both men laughed. “And hey, about that, Charlie tricked me into spending a week out there, so I won’t be able to keep your rich lawyer’s ass in shape. You’ll have to run without me.”

“You? On a farm? For a week?” Sam’s laughter rang through the phone. 

“Yak it up, Bitch. At least, I’ll get to taste more of Farmer Novak’s food.”

“Have fun.” They said their goodbyes and Dean settled against his headboard to work. Meg’s article would give them great publicity for their cause, but he’d still need to write up a report for FRAC. This wasn’t a vacation. Not that he’d ever pick a farm for a getaway. Nope, his idea of a good time would be a drive to Vermont for skiing and findin g a  snow bunny  o r tw o to warm him up. 

Monday dawned cool and crisp. Spring was here, but it was still chilly at night and early mornings. He tossed his jacket into the car along with his suitcase and guitar. It wasn’t quite six, but Dean wanted to beat most of the Metro area traffic. When the city was behind him, he patted the Impala’s dash. “Let’s blow out those pipes, huh, Baby?” He pressed the accelerator and grinned as her V8 roared.

The drive wasn ’t  bad a nd he made good time. When he finally came to a stop beside a patch of sunflowers that were almost as tall as he was, he shut off the ignition. He sat for a moment, staring at the pretty house that hadn’t been a part of the tour. Was that where he’d be staying? It wasn’t as pretentious as he thought it would be. The tin roof was kind of awesome.

Dean’s hand was on the door latch when someone appeared in his window. Was that Gabriel or Balthazar? He couldn’t remember. “Morning, Dean-o. You’re here bright and early? Eager, huh?”

“Just wanted to beat the DC traffic,” Dean said, cringing at the nickname. He was a guest here, so he kept his mouth shut about it. He inserted the key into the trunk and  lifted it  to reveal his luggage. “Where am I staying?” Dean asked, picking up his guitar case.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Dean stiffened. He’d know that voice anywhere. Did he gargle with whiskey and toss in some  gravel from his  drivewa y ? Turnin g, he pasted on a smile. He was good at playing nice even when he didn’t want to. It was part of life in the Nation's capital.

“It’s Dean. Mr. Winchester was my dad.” The man nodded his understanding. 

“ _ Dean  _ was just asking where to put his stuff.”

“I can show you to your room,” Novak said and reached for Dean’s suitcase. Dean beat him to it. Novak lifted an eyebrow but inclined his head toward the house. “This way.”

As they neared the house, Dean stopped watching Novak’s ass and thighs in those tight jeans and paid more attention to their destination. Up close the home was inviting, nothing like Dean pictured the man from the article in the Post to be living in. There were rockers on the front porch for Christ’s sake.

Inside was like an interior decorating magazine though. Gleaming hardwood floors, everything in its place, expensive furniture, and yet, it looked inviting. 

“I want you to feel at home here,” Castiel said, but Dean thought that was a lie. He followed Novak up the stairs, its walls hung with a few dozen family photos. In the short hallway, more pictures adorned the wall, most  of them farm animals. 

The guest room was  _ nice _ . A queen bed was neatly made with a white chenille spread. On top of it was a wooden tray. A vase of fresh sunflowers and two bottles of water were on it. Huh, nice touch. “Your bath is across the hall and I’m sure Mildred left out fresh towels.”  _ Mildred _ \-- must be the wife. Old fashioned na me.  Bet she was the kind that had dinner on the table for her husband, fetched his damn slippers, and was waiting by the door for him to come in after a hard day's work. Dean hid a smirk. “I’ll leave you to get unpacked...” He let the sentence hang like he was unsure what to do next.

“Cool, thanks. I guess I’ll come find  you when I’m done.”

“Fine. That’s fine. I’ll be in the barn.” And with that, he was gone. Dean looked around for a second and stepped closer to the bed. On the wall above it, in neat script, was a large wooden sign.

Probably another one of Mildred’s touches. Huffing softly, he opened his suitcase and put his clothes into the empty dresser drawers. He left his shaving kit on top for later and stowed the empty bag into the closet. He laid his guitar on the bed. 

Being human and curious about Novak, Dean stood in the hall to make sure he was alone before opening the other doors. There were three besides the guest room. The first one was obviously a girl’s room. Claire, if he remembered correctly. A collection of dream catchers adorned one of the walls. He backed out and opened the next one. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Dean said softly as he took in all the blue ribbons and trophies scattered around the room. He couldn’t stop himself from going in and studying the photographs. Most were of the boy, Jack,  with various cows and goats.  One of the trophies read  _ Reserve Breed Champion _ . “Guess that’s impressive.”

“Jack is an impressive young man,” came a voice behind him, causing him to jump and knock over a silver cup. He righted it before turning.

“Sorry, I’m not a burglar or anything. Just a nosy son of a...” He stopped when he took in the older woman. 

“You must be the man from Washington.”

“Guilty. Of  _ that...  _ and  being nosy.” He was still standing in a room that didn’t belong to him and he was feeling shittier and shittier about that. “It’s Dean, by the way .” He thrust out his hand to shake hers. Her grip was firmer than he’d imagined it would be.

“Well, Dean, my name is Mildred.” Boom, not the wife then. Unless Novak likes ‘ em ...  _ Eww _ . Abort. Abort. “I am Castiel’s housekeeper. I was the children’s nanny and before that the three brothers’ nanny.”

“So, you’ve known them a long time then. Novak seems intense.”

“Which one?” Dean liked the smirk she sent him. 

“Castiel,” Dean answered. “He’s the one I’m supposed to be dealing with.”

“Yes, the newspaper thing. Castiel is a good man and a great father.” There was a warning there, but Dean couldn’t figure out why she felt the need to do that. He was guilty of being a snoop, but he wasn’t an axe murd erer  or  e ven a food critic.

“I should just... go now. Novak... Castiel is waiting for me at the barn.”

“If you need anything, please let me know. I usually have coffee brewing by five. Breakfast for Jack at six and you are welcome to eat with him.”

“Doesn’t Castiel eat with the kids?” She only mentioned the one kid though. “Claire doesn’t do breakfast?”

Why was he still here and asking questions? He felt like one of those assholes in meetings that wouldn’t shut up so everyone could leave.

“Sometimes, but he’s usually out doing farm duties by the time they get up. Weekends, they have lunch together, and on nights that the restaurant is closed, they all have dinner together here. That usually includes Gabriel and Balthazar. Claire stays in Blacksburg during the week.” Made since, that would be a long as fuck commute.

“That’s... that’s pretty cool actually.” 

“Do you have a family, Dean?” She was still blocking the path to the door and  apparently, she was set on  interrogating him.

“Just a brother, Sam. But I have a lot of family not related by blood.” He thought of Bobby and Ellen, his pseudo-parents. Charlie and Jo, of course, the sisters he never wanted, but loved anyway.

“Family’s important,” she stated simply. “Now, I have laundry to do, so I’ll let you get to what you came here for.”

“Nice meeting you, Missus...”

“It’s Mildred.” And then she was gone. He exited the room and shut the door behind him. He guessed he made a  _ great _ impression. She wo uld probably short sheet his bed or  s omething .

Outside again, he noticed there was more activity. A beat-up Volkswagen Beetle was parked next to his baby and Max was getting a large duffle out of the tiny backseat. “Morning, Compadre.”

“Morning,” Max looked up at him and grinned. “Ready to milk some cows and pick some corn?”

“That was not part of the deal,” Dean said, sharing a laugh with the younger man. “I’m here to keep Novak on a budget, nothing more.”

“Yeah, Novak, he’s...” Max’s eyes softened. Uh-oh, someone’s got a crush. 

“Intense,” Dean supplied. “Let’s go find him and see what he’s up to.”

Castiel had always been proud of the home he’d built. When he and his brothers bought the property six years ago, the house was basically a brick shell. He contracted an old friend and the construction began. Mildred and the kids got to be in on the design as well, and it turned out beautifully. As he led Dean in and up the stairs, he tried to see it from someone else’s eyes. 

Mildred ran a tight ship and it was always neat as a pin. She’d been his nanny when he was a child, and when he had children of his own, he found her and brought her to his home. Then buying the farm with his brothers made her presence in their lives so much more important. She was a constant. A mother of sorts, since he’d never really known his. 

Seeing the small touches in the guest room hammered home just how much he appreciated her. He shook himself out of his musings. The wedding tast ing wasn’t going to plan  it self . 

He heard unfamiliar laughter and looked toward the door. Max and Dean came through together, sharing a joke or perhaps making fun of Castie l and his social awkwardness.  It wouldn’t surprise him if they were. His brothers were always teasing him about his lack of social graces. It was irritating coming from them, hurtful coming from complete strangers.

“ Heya , Cas,” Dean said, still smiling. Cas? Well, it was better than the nickname his brothers insisted on calling him.  _ Cassie _ , indeed.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel didn’t stand but waved the two men to be seated. “I’m unsure of the protocol with this challenge  and I will let you fill me in once I have this tasting planned. I won’t be much longer. I will have to cook after lunch,” he informed them, his eyes back on his tablet. He’d planned on smoked salmon on toast points with an herbed cream cheese, cakes made with pepper jelly and goat cheese, mushroom pate, and spring rolls filled with vegetables freshly picked.

“Tasting?” Dean asked, watching him intently.

“Yes, a bride and groom want to have their wedding and reception here on the farm in late June.”

“What are you serving?” Dean seemed truly interested, so Castiel read him the menu.

“Oh, huh, and all that comes from the farm?”

“All but the salmon. It is wild-caught and flown in from the Pacific Northwest.”

“And how much would this set them back?”

“Excuse me?” Castiel wasn’t sure what Dean was asking.

“The cost of this shindig? How much will the bride’s mom and dad  have to fork out for that fancy stuff?”

“It will all depend on the number of guests,” Castiel answered, getting irritated. Would he go into a four-star restaurant and complain about the price of a good steak? Probably.

“Just give me a rough estimate per guest,” Dean was pushy and Castiel didn’t appreciate it. 

“For something like this,  _ roughly _ thirty dollars a person.”

Dean whistled. “Holy shit. Pigs in a blanket and onion dip not good enough for them?”

Castiel couldn’t help the expression of disgust that crossed his face and he knew that Dean saw it, if his smirk was anything to go by.

“The bride is a senator’s daughter. Onion dip was not on her wish list.”

“Her loss,” Dean said with a shr ug . “I  cou ld do he r reception for about five bucks a head and no one would leave hungry.”

“Perhaps you can add event planning to your resume,” Castiel said coolly and rose. “I have duties to attend to. You more than welcome to explore on your own,” he said mainly to Max. Dean was now making fun of his food, his business, and his clients. How could he be so judgmental? 

He strode purposefully toward the root cellar door and flung it open. “I thought you were babysitting the city boy?” Gabriel said from behind him.

“He’s insufferable. Can you  actually believe he suggested serving Senator Collins daughter  _ pigs in a blanket _ ?”

“Hey, don’t knock ‘ em , little bro.” At Castiel’s glare, he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Before Castiel could descend into the gloriously cool and dark mushroom growing facility, his brother caught his arm. “I know you’re a foodie, Cassie, and an excellent chef, but Dean strikes me as the kind of person that survived the school of hard knocks.”

“What makes you say that? He lives and works in one of the most expensive cities on the east coast. He hobnobs with the movers and shakers of DC. I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes from old money.”

“Nope, not seeing it.” Gabriel shrugged. “But hey, I could be wrong. But Cassie, you’ve got to play nice. The publicity will do us good.”

“We’re fine financially, Gabriel.” And they were. All three of them invested their trust funds into the farm, but by the second year, they were turning a nice profit from both the sale of their produce, honey, and  dairy products, to the events and meals he served.

“I know we are, but it’s publicity. We will be needing some improvements in the milking shed soon, and the irrigation system is not able to keep up with our needs. I don’t want to touch the capital.” Gabriel was right. The farm was stable, but it was also in constant need of repairs, supplies, and payroll for their employees. “You don’t have to fall in love with the guy, but you can be nice.”

“Fall in...” Castiel scoffed. “As if. He would never be comfortable living here with me and the kids.” Too late, he realized he’d given Gabriel ammunition. “Men like Dean Winchester tend to be  hetro ,” he muttered.

Gabriel clapped gleefully. “Oh, yes, I knew you thought he was hot. I mean, who wouldn’t? I don’t even bat for your team, but I can recognize a prime specimen when I see one.” 

“Prime specimen?” Castiel’s inhaled sharply and turned to see Dean and Max a few feet away. How much had he heard?

“Mushrooms,” Gabriel said, saving the day. “We grow several kinds. Portabellas, Shiitake, oyster and wood ear. I’ll let Cassie here give you the tour.”

Down in the cellar, Castiel stood with the two other men surrounded by their vertical growing racks. “We keep it at a constant temperature year-round and a misting system keeps the air moist for spore reproduction.”

“What are these guys?” Dean asked, gently touching a cluster of pinks.

“Those are oysters. We grow pearls, goldens, and these are the pinks.”

“Cool,” Dean said, for once looking suitably impressed.” He shivered and it was then that Castiel noticed he’d shed his flannel shirt. 

“You can go up. I just need to pick a few for my menu.” Castiel picked up one of the wicker baskets they kept for just this purpose and used his pocketknife to take what he needed. Max was snapping a few pictures, but Dean was watching him. 

“We will need to hit the grocery store for lunch and dinner, so can I help you with anything?”

“The grocery... oh, yes, for the challenge.” Castiel tucked another cluster into the basket and closed his knife. “I can get away as soon as I gather my produce for the tasting.”

“Okay, show me what I can do to speed things along.”

In the bright sunlight, Castiel led the way back to the raised beds. He looked down the driveway when he heard the rumble of Benny’s truck. “Ah, that would be our weekly meat order and he should have my salmon as well.”

In another lifetime, Castiel and Benny might have had something. Their professional relationship had turned to friendship early on, and one night they’d shared a bottle of strawberry wine. A fumbled kiss happened, but Castiel was sober enough to stop things from progressing further. Thankfully, Benny had laughed it off. 

“Cher, that salmon looks incredible. I should have ordered extra, so you could make me that pistachio crusted fillet again. I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal that good,” he was saying as he climbed down from the cab. The man was dressed in his usual attire, a black fisherman’s cap, jeans, a  henley , and a long-sleeved overshirt. He opened the back of the refrigerated truck and climbed inside. He set two boxes with the farm’s name written in marker on the end before jumping down. That’s when he noticed Dean and Max. “New farm hands?” He asked, smiling at them.

“No, guests. This is Dean Winchester and Max Banes. They’re here from the city to work on a story.”

He looked Dean up and down and stepped closer to Castiel. “Another story about you,  _ cher _ ?” The affectionate term of endearment was more of a purr. Dean squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. Castiel’s gaze went from one man to the other. Why did he suddenly feel like two roosters were fighting over a prized hen... and he was the hen? Latent feelings aside, he could understand Benny’s actions, but Dean? They disliked each other at best. He was imagining things.  _ Projecting things _ . 

“Not quite,” Castiel rushed to say. “Dean is an activist and his focus  lies in making sure school children get nutritious meals. I’ve been challenged to use the same funds as SNAP recipients to make meals for my family.” It all came out in a rush. Why  _ was _ he projecting things? Yes, he found Dean attractive. Who wouldn’t? He pushed those thoughts aside to dissect later. 

“Well, that sounds mighty interesting.” Benny picked up the two stacked boxes like they weighed next to nothing. “Let’s get your order inside and inspect it.” He walked closely beside Castiel and he could practically feel Dean’s eyes  boring into their backs. 

Castiel stowed his order in the walk-in cooler and came back to see the two men squared off, his stainless-steel worktable between them. “I’m just saying that the organic meat industry uses unethical lobbying tactics.”

“That’s bullshit. We have to jump through hoops to have our farms certified and the government treats us like we’re always trying to pull something over on ‘ em . I am inspected twice monthly. They sure as fuck don’t do that to regular cattle farms.”

“Organic just tells me that I can’t afford a steak. It’s high price nonsense...” Castiel cleared his throat and Dean stopped talking. 

“Is there a problem?” Both men remained silent and Castiel could feel the tension in the air. “Dean, organic meats aren’t injected with growth hormones, antibiotics, or chemically enhanced feed. Yes, it is more expensive, but it is better for you.”

“Whatever,” Dean muttered.

“You can’t argue with city people, Castiel,” Benny said snidely, but gave Castiel a warm smile. “I have a few more bottles of strawberry wine. We should have another evening under the stars,” he whispered, but it was loud enough that Dean heard it. He looked disgusted. Castiel wouldn’t tolerate homoph obia, regardless of how much publicity this article was going to get the farm. 

Dean crossed his arms and watched as Benny sauntered out of the barn. “Dean...”

“Public schools and underprivileged families can’t afford organic food,” he said vehemently and Castiel felt chastised. 

“I do understand that and I think it is wrong that so many children go to bed hungry in what is supposed to be the richest nation in the world, but people that can afford it, shouldn’t be punished. Blame our system, not the people.”

Dean looked at him for a few seconds and gave him a brisk nod. “We should get to the store soon.” 

Castiel watched him leave the barn, his body sagging a bit. He hated confrontation and still didn’t understand what happened between Benny and Dean. It made no sense at all. 

“Uh, I should... follow Dean.” Max’s voice startled him. The young man was so unintrusive that he hadn’t noticed he was there. He needed to remember that the Post’s photographer was at the farm for a story. It was up to Castiel to keep that story on the right subject matter.


	3. Down on the Farm

When Novak, Castiel, no, Cas, started going on about his tasting menu, it pushed home just how rich and pretentious he was. They were polar opposites. Dean was a _pigs_ _in a blanket_ kind of guy and Cas, well he was smoked salmon on toast points. What the hell was a toast point anyway? 

Dean knew the exact moment he’d pushed Cas’ button a bit too hard. He shouldn’t have insulted the man’s business. He was being a snob. Charlie would bust his chops for being such a dick. He looked over at Max. “We don’t have to tell Meg I pissed off the chef, do we?” 

“I didn’t see or hear anything,” Max replied with a shrug. 

“Good man. Now, let’s go see if we can find him and I’ll do my best to play nice.” Stepping out into the sunshine, Dean blinked. “It’s warmed up some.” He took off his flannel shirt and tossed it on a pile of wooden crates. He saw a flash of the black shirt and jacket in the distance. “There he is,” Dean told the photographer and took off in that direction. 

As he approached Cas and his brother, Dean caught the last of their conversation and asked, “Prime specimen?” 

Gabe launched into a short dissertation about the mushrooms they grew and then Castiel led them down the steep wooden steps into a mushroom garden. Did you call them gardens if they were underground? Dean would have to ask. First though, he had to make amends. Actually, it was pretty cool to see how they were growing all the different varieties in vertical racks. 

He regretted taking off his overshirt though. It was cold down there. When he shivered, Cas noticed and tried to send him topside, but he wanted to stay because he needed to discuss the challenge. He’d done some research and found a Dollar Tree in Purcellville and that seemed the closest. They also had a Food Lion, for the things they couldn’t find at the smaller store. He found himself volunteering to help Cas with his chores so they could get on the road faster. 

They made their way back to the barn, with Cas stopping to pick some green stuff here and there. The meat truck arrived just as they finished. The dude that got down from the cab was burly, what _some_ would call attractive. He was laying it on thick with Cas and Dean wondered if he’d gotten his assessment of the man’s sexual orientation wrong. 

When Cas introduced them, Dean didn’t like the way the man looked at him like he was something under his shoe. Okay, it was official, the man was a douche. He was all up in Cas’ personal space and the farmer wasn’t doing much to discourage it. Did he see Dean as a threat? Hey, Dean Winchester wasn’t a fuckin’ homewrecker and hell, that would mean he’d actually have to like Cas. And he didn’t. 

Dean was all set to ignore the asshole when Cas stepped into the walk-in cooler, but Benny had other plans. He faced off with Dean. “How long are you staying on the farm?” 

“Long enough,” Dean said, pulling himself up to his full height which was a good couple inches taller than Benny. 

“Guess a city boy doesn’t know much about farming. Careful you don’t get those new boots of yours dirty.” 

“Do you think I care what the man who has meat only the rich can afford thinks? I’ve seen what your kind does in DC.” 

“My kind? That's rich coming from some political lackey. Organic farming is better for everyone, including the animals.” 

“I’m just saying that the organic meat industry uses unethical lobbying tactics.” Dean saw Cas coming toward them, a look of concern on his face. He shouldn’t have let Benny bait him. 

“That’s bullshit. We have to jump through hoops to have our farms certified and the government treats us like we’re always trying to pull something over on ‘em. I am inspected twice monthly. They sure as fuck don’t do that to regular cattle farms.” 

“Organic just tells me that I can’t afford a steak. It’s high price nonsense...” Then Cas cleared his throat, loudly and damn if it didn’t sound disapproving. 

“Is there a problem?” Dean cast his eyes up to the large beams above them. He knew how this was going to go. Cas was an organic farmer, so he’d take Benny’s side. Of course, he would, especially since they were _close_. “Dean, organic meats aren’t injected with growth hormones, antibiotics, or chemically enhanced feed. Yes, it is more expensive, but it is better for you.” Yep, there it was. 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered. 

“You can’t argue with city people, Castiel.” The motherfucker smiled sweetly at Cas. Dean wanted to punch him in his mouth. “I have a few more bottles of strawberry wine. We should have another evening under the stars,” he whispered, but he wanted Dean to hear him. Asshat. Dean crossed his arms and watched as Benny sauntered out of the barn. 

“Dean...” 

“Public schools and underprivileged families can’t afford organic food.” Dean knew it didn’t matter. People like Cas didn’t care about public schools. Hell, he bet his kids went to fancy ass private schools. 

“I do understand that and I think it is wrong that so many children go to bed hungry in what is supposed to be the richest nation in the world, but people that can afford it shouldn’t be punished. Blame our system, not the people.” 

Damn him for being logical. That was an argument he himself used often. Don’t blame the poor for things the government is doing to screw you over. In this case, he was doing the opposite, but wrong was wrong. “We should get to the store soon,” he said softly, needing to get some air, he strode outside. 

He yanked his flannel shirt off the crates he dropped it on early. He felt like getting into his car, calling Charlie, and telling her he was out. He glanced over at the Impala and sighed. An exit now would make him look like a drama queen, besides having to pack his stuff took all the spontaneity out of it. 

“Hey, uh, you okay?” Max stood there fiddling with his camera strap. God, he looked young when he was upset. 

“Yeah, sorry about all that. I shouldn’t have let that douche rattle my chain.” 

“You think he’s Mr. Novak’s boyfriend?” His voice was hesitant, and Dean recognized all the signs. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He nodded toward a bench by a raised bed of tomatoes. The two men sat down, with Max careful to keep several inches between them. “His and Cas’ relationship doesn’t bother me. Him being a dick was the problem. Every group of people in the world can have assholes among them.” 

“I guess so,” he said, smiling. “Try going to a gay club in DC, there are plenty of bitches there.” 

Dean laughed. “I know.” 

Max’s smile faltered. “You’re...?” 

“Bi. My last relationship was with a man. He might have fucked up chances of another one. I used to think chicks had all the drama, but they are looking better and better.” 

“Bet you don’t have any problems finding someone to date.” Was he blushing? Uh, oh. 

Cas saved him from having to let the kid down by coming out of the barn with his stupid tablet. “I think you mentioned coming up with a menu before we go shopping.” So, he was going to be cool about the whole incident with his boyfriend. Dean could get behind that. 

“I have some ideas. I do the menus for my roommates every week.” 

Cas sat down on the edge of the raised bed and poised his stylus over the screen. “We will have about four dollars per person daily, Monday through Wednesday will be seven. Thursday and Friday, eight. Saturday and Sunday, nine.” 

Dean was lost. “Whoa, hold up. I’m getting confused. There are only three of you. Where you getting these numbers?” 

“I’ve added you and Max into the equation, since I’m assuming you will need to eat as well. Claire is only here on weekends until school is out. My brothers eat lunch and dinner with us most nights, so...” 

“Okay. Okay, I think I’ve got it. Now, for the menu.” 

It took them five minutes to figure out a set dollar amount with all Cas additions and subtractions, then the hard part began. Cas kept trying to throw in stuff from the farm like eggs and cheese, but Dean was adamant. No free stuff. Then, he didn’t like most of Dean’s suggestions. There was nothing wrong with PBJs for lunch. “Cas, look, I know you’re a chef, but the only seafood those on SNAP get is tuna in a can.” 

The ride to the store was done in complete silence. Cas didn’t even turn on the radio. The Dollar Tree wasn’t crowded since it was a work and school day. Dean grabbed a green shopping cart and headed for the grocery aisle. When he turned around, Max was still standing at the end, a perplexed expression on his face. At Dean’s questioning look, he shrugged and pointed. 

“Jeez, what now?” He backtracked until he reached Max. “What? Where’s Cas?” Max pointed and Dean blinked. “What the...” 

Cas had a cart of his own and was down the aisle that featured wrapping paper. “Cas, we’re here for food.” 

Cas looked at him, his head tilted to one side. “Did you know that everything in this store is a dollar?” 

“Yeah, dude, that’s why it’s called Dollar Tree. We’re here for groceries, not wrapping paper.” 

“But it’s only a dollar.” Dean felt like he was just tossed into a Saturday Night Live skit. “Look at these gift bags. Only a dollar each.” 

Dean glanced at his watch. The hour hand was getting close to eleven and they had to shop, drive back to the farm, and fix lunch. He didn’t want this seven day challenge to drag on any longer than it had to. Cas’ cart was filling rapidly with rolls of paper, gaily colored gift bags, and curly bow things. “Cas, come on, man. Time’s a’wastin’.” For his effort, he got a look that told him to fuck off. “Great,” he muttered and headed for the food aisle. 

He did a few calculations in his head and settled on two loaves of white bread, some off brand of peanut butter, and some grape jelly. That would be lunch for several days. He found potato chips and tossed in two large bags. They weren’t Lays, but they were cheap. He picked up three cans of chicken, a bag of pasta, and a can of cream of chicken soup. Instant casserole. 

Max was beside him snapping pictures of his cart when Cas came around the corner. “There you are. Did you know they have reading glasses? Just a dollar. Balthazar is always losing his, so I got him five pair.” 

“I’ve created a monster,” Dean said to Max, who was grinning at Cas’ excitement. The Cas’ smile faded as he took in the contents of Dean’s cart. 

“That bread is unacceptable. It has no nutritional value and is filled with chemicals to add shelf life.” 

“It’s only a dollar,” Dean said with feigned enthusiasm to get Cas back into his good mood. Cas crossed his arms. Crap. “Look, we only have thirty-four bucks a day to feed everyone. You have to learn to cut corners.” 

“Mildred can bake bread for sandwiches,” he said, distaste evident as he picked up the jar of peanut butter. We can buy bread flour and yeast and she can make several loaves.” _Choose your battles, Winchester_. 

“We will compromise then. The PBJ stuff stays, the bread goes.” There was another disagreement about the other stuff in the cart, but Dean promised Cas his casserole would taste good. 

The grocery store was almost anti-climactic in comparison. He let Cas pick out the flour and other staples. Hamburger was added, as well as canned tomato products and spaghetti noodles. Dean was great at inexpensive meal planning. He’d grown up feeding Sam on stolen food and cheap ingredients. 

“It’s the same thing, but the store brand is cheaper,” Dean said, sighing dramatically, as he tossed a container of seasoned salt on top of their other items. 

“I still don’t see why we can’t use vegetables from the farm,” Cas mumbled, poking at a cellophane bag of carrots. Dean was already wheeling the cart toward the checkout, his brain calculating what they’d spent. Thankfully, Cas stated that the family drank water or milk with their meals, so sodas and fruit juices weren’t an expensive add-on. He did hide two packets of Kool-Aid, because he had to have something sweet. He swung through the beer aisle and picked up two six-packs of his favorite. 

“That is not going to count against our budget,” Cas said firmly, his brow arched in a way that Dean _did not_ find sexy. 

“Nope. That’s from my wallet,” he said, holding up his leather trifold. 

To say Castiel was displeased was an understatement. Dean’s meal choices were not up to his standards. He wasn’t a snob. _He wasn’t_. It was just that he liked good quality ingredients for both his restaurant and his family’s meals. The chemicals and preservatives alone could cause all types of health issues. It was only a week. He could manage and prove to Dean that he could do this stupid challenge. 

As he drove them back to the farm, he glanced over at Dean in the passenger seat of his truck. Max was in the backseat typing on his phone. The man was infuriating, but pretty to look at. He really should think about getting out into the dating pool again. With Claire at collage and Jack doing what teenage boys did, Castiel had his evenings free during the week. Perhaps he could try an online service. He’d ask Claire to help him this weekend. Satisfied that he was moving forward with his life, he hummed along with the classical station. 

“Is this all you listen to?” 

“What?” 

“This music. I can handle show tunes, Mozart, and golden oldies just as much as the next guy, but when I’m driving, I need something that will keep me awake.” 

“I’m awake,” Castiel replied. “Classical music helps me to think.” 

In lieu of answering, Dean huffed under his breath and began playing with his phone. It was like being in the car with Jack and Claire. He was glad when they reached the farm. He parked in his driveway and the three of them unloaded the groceries they’d bought. _Groceries_? That was a reach. 

As he and Mildred put the things away, Dean started preparing their lunch, and Max took pictures. Castiel wasn’t sheltered. He knew that it was cheaper to feed children on the crap from the dollar menu at any fast food restaurant than it was a meal rich in vegetables and other nutritious ingredients. Today’s shopping expedition showed him how little one could get on the mere pennies the government allotted single parents and the elderly. Life wasn’t fair. He vowed to do better. 

Today’s lunch was boxed macaroni and cheese, a small salad made with iceberg lettuce and grated carrots, and a half of an apple. Mildred promised to make bread that afternoon so they could add sandwiches to their meal plan. 

Since Dean was there for the challenge, Castiel didn’t expect him to follow as he left for the afternoon’s chores. At his suggestion for Dean to make himself at home, Dean shrugged and said, “Hey, I’m here, might as well help around the place.” 

It wasn’t until he went to the milking shed to help with cleaning for the next morning’s session that Dean balked. “Whoa,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “It stinks in here.” 

“Cows shit, man,” Gabriel said, raking up a pile of manure. 

“But this is where you get milk, right? Shouldn’t it be more... hygienic or something?” 

“We shall work on housetraining them right away,” Castiel said as he removed the silicone milking cups. He disposed of the liners and applied fresh ones for the morning milking. 

“You can do that?” Castiel rolled his eyes and Gabriel snorted. “Oh, that was a joke?” 

“Dean-o, cows are farm animals. They eat and poop. We keep this barn as sanitized as possible and we’re inspected, but you can’t stop a cow from taking a dump. It’s not like they’re doing it in the milk tank. 

As Castiel washed up in the milking shed sink, Dean stood by waiting his turn. “Please don’t feel that you have to participate in the farm’s day-to-day running. You are more than welcome to remain in the house and watch television or... whatever.” Castiel had no idea what Dean would want to do to keep himself from being bored. 

Dinner turned out to be a chaotic affair. Dean made an atrocious casserole with canned chicken and potato chips. Castiel could almost feel his arteries hardening. Gabriel seemed to like it and Jack would eat just about anything, so they gave no complaints. Balthazar pushed his plate away after one bite. “Perhaps I’ll go out tonight.” Castiel wished he could join him. Work on the farm required fuel for their bodies. This wasn’t even close to what was usually served in the Novak household. Mildred made a valiant effort but excused herself to clean the kitchen. He knew she kept a stash of ice cream in the freezer. 

As usual, dinner conversation revolved around the farm and it was no different, even with their two visitors. Max seemed genuinely interested, but Dean seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. He was probably wishing he was back in DC at a fancy restaurant with a beautiful woman on his arm. 

“Is there dessert?” Jack asked, standing to carry his plate into the kitchen. 

“We have cookies,” Dean said, also getting to his feet. 

“Mildred’s magic cookies?” Jack asked with enthusiasm. 

“Uh, no. Store brand butter cookies,” Dean responded, and Jack’s face fell. Dean shrugged. “They aren’t that bad.” 

After his brothers left for their homes, Max made his way to his quarters above the barn, and Jack went upstairs to finish his homework, Castiel handed Dean the remote to the television. “You can watch whatever you want.” He moved to leave the room, but Dean stopped him. 

“Where are you going? Please tell me there aren’t any more chores.” 

“I have to work on the bookkeeping. I’ll be in my home office if you need anything.” He heard the lively music of some popular cooking show as he entered the small room where he kept the farm’s books. Sitting down at his desk, he opened his laptop, but his mind wasn’t on numbers. It strayed to the man currently relaxing in his living room. It was only the first day. Dean was an enigma. He came across as a homophobe with Benny but worked to make sure children of this country had food to eat. Frowning, Castiel pulled up his accounting program and pushed thoughts of Dean Winchester out of his mind. He only had to get through six more days. 

“I can’t stand the man,” Castiel muttered to his brother as the two of them hooked up their small dairy herd to the milking machine. He patted Joan Jett’s hindquarters and moved to the next cow. It was early, just after six and the sun was barely cresting the horizon. 

“Come on, Cassie, he’s not that bad.” Gabriel’s words got him a glare from his younger brother. 

“He’s a homophobe,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. 

“What?” Gabriel stopped leading Stevie Nicks, one of their pretty Holstein Friesians, his face a hardened mask. “What did he say to you? We won’t be putting up with that shit, publicity or not.” 

“It wasn’t anything he said, but his reaction to Benny... Let’s just say I’ve seen that look on other faces before.” 

“Benny? Why Benny?” 

“He asked me to share another bottle of strawberry wine with him and you know Benny, he made it sound suggestive. I think he was trying to get a rise out of Dean. Anyway, Dean didn’t seem to like the fact that I might be gay.” 

“Fuck him,” Gabriel said, finally settling Stevie into her rack. He rubbed her nose and gave her a bite of apple before moving on to the next cow in line. 

“As long as he doesn’t start anything, I’ll be fine.” 

“This is our home. We don’t need that kind of bigotry here.” 

“Maybe I’m reading more into it...” Castiel let his words trail off. And maybe he was blowing it out of proportion. Gabriel stared at him over Pat Benatar's back. “I’ll be fine,” he assured his somewhat overprotective brother. “Please don’t say anything.” 

“Fine, but if you need me to kick his ass...” 

“No ass kicking,” Castiel said with a final pat to the last cow, a young one named Linda Ronstadt. It had been Gabriel’s fault all their cows were named after female rock stars. At least, the goats had normal names. 

They walked out of the barn just as the interns were coming in. After greeting the students, Castiel stood against the milking shed and watched the school bus trundle down the driveway. He waved as his son ran out of the house and climbed aboard. Jack had his driver’s license, but Castiel wanted him to learn humility and the feeling of earning what you received. That was why both of his children had gone to the local public school. Claire had gotten her car as a graduation present and Jack would get his then too. 

As the bus pulled away, Dean came out of the house. He was dressed in jeans and another flannel shirt. Castiel looked down at his own blue chambray shirt, worn workpants, and the rubber boots he wore around the animals. He already had cow manure smeared on one. “You are quite the catch, Castiel,” he muttered to himself. 

He walked across the yard and onto the gravel pathway. “Mildred said you already ate but could probably use another cup of coffee.” He held out one of the stainless steel travel mugs he used on a daily basis. 

“Thank you,” he said, taking the offered mug. He inhaled the rich scent and sighed. He hoped the already ground coffee in the red plastic container was decent. In his usual world, he bought whole beans from a sustainable farm in Kenya. He took a tentative sip. It wasn’t _that_ bad. Mildred must have told him how he takes it. Three sugars and a large splash of cream, _real_ cream. Since they hadn’t bought any at the grocery store, Dean must have let him cheat. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Dean asked, taking in the activity around them. 

“I’ll be checking on the goats, we have a few ready to kid any day now. Then I’m working with Cain in the honey shed. We’ve got to get a shipment ready for the Dupont Circle Market.” 

“Hey, I know that place. My brother goes there for his vegetables. Sundays, right?” Dean seemed less irritable today. Castiel hoped it lasted. 

“Yes. We have a booth there. Honey, and some of our fruits and vegetables.” 

“I’ll tell Sam to make sure he hits it up then.” Dean took a sip of his own coffee. “Have you seen Max yet?” 

“Not yet, but I haven’t opened up the barn yet. If you want to go do something else today, we have enough help.” 

“Trying to get rid of me, Cas?” Those green eyes studied him and there was a hint of a smile, but Castiel wondered if the man was disappointed. Surely not. Farm life definitely wasn’t on Dean’s list of fun things to do. 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to work. I’m sure you aren’t used to manual labor.” It was a thinly veiled dig, but Castiel couldn’t help it. The man lived in the city. His reaction to the natural smell of livestock told him everything he needed to know. Dean wouldn’t make it on the farm. He was soft. 

“I’m not used to farm work, but I’ve never shied away from hard work,” Dean said, his chin lifting in challenge. 

“Then you can help with the goats.” Castiel turned to walk to the pen where they were kept, an evil smile gracing his lips. He heard Dean fall into step beside him. “We have four does that are due this week. Most of the time, our girls do fine on their own, but we do have to make sure everything goes according to plan.” 

“Uh, huh,” Dean mumbled, his eyes already on the goats standing next to the fence where Balthazar was feeding them. 

“You can fill their water trough, while I help with their breakfast.” 

“Sure thing.” 

At the pen, Castiel pointed to the center of the pasture where a short stock tank stood. “There’s a faucet out there, just make sure it’s full, but don’t overflow.” 

Dean looked down at his boots and then at the pasture. He exhaled while Balthazar unlatched the gate for him. As he walked, their big buck, Clyde, took notice of the newcomer. “This should be interesting,” his brother said, arms crossed over the top rail of the fence. 

Clyde seemed to be taking an innocent stroll behind Dean, but Castiel knew him well. Halfway to the tank, the big goat made his move. The blow from the rear sent Dean face first into the dirt. “Ow,” Balthazar said with a chuckle. The buck pawed at the ground, but Castiel’s whistle had him running back toward the females. 

“Dean? Are you okay?” Castiel called out sweetly. Dean was up on all fours now and was slowly getting to his feet. One hand was planted on his backside. Clyde’s curled horns weren’t dangerous, but Dean would have a bruise on that fine ass of his. He couldn’t make out Dean’s expression from here, but Castiel knew the city boy wouldn’t be happy. 

“It’s not like you to be mean, Cassie,” Balthazar drawled lazily, scratching at one of their newer kid’s head. 

“He rubs me the wrong way,” Castiel said shortly. “How are the girls?” 

“Lettie and Patty will probably have their babies today. I checked them before I turned them out this morning. Both have a discharge, and they were restless.” 

“Guess we’ll be taking turns watching them then,” Castiel said, his eyes still on Dean, who was now filling the tank. A clicking sound from behind him caused him to turn. Max was taking pictures of Dean and the goats. “Good morning, Max.” 

“Morning. What time do you get up in the morning?” The poor boy looked like he hadn’t slept much. 

“We are usually working by five-thirty,” Balthazar answered. “The workday ends when the sun goes down.” 

“I’ll set my alarm tomorrow then,” Max replied, camera still held to his eye. 

Dean was on his way back across the pasture, and Balthazar patted his shoulder. “I’m giving you first watch. I feel the need to disappear before he gets back.” 

As his brother walked quickly away, Max leaned against the fence. “What’s going on?” 

“Dean had a run-in with Clyde, our big male.” Castiel pointed to the buck, who was now eating the pellets Balthazar had poured into the feed trough. 

“Oh, wow. Is he hurt?” 

“Just his pride, I would imagine,” Castiel said softly, unable to stop the smile. 

As Dean drew nearer, the goats started milling around the stranger. He started walking faster, but they were a curious bunch and began nibbling on his jeans and shirt. “Hey, knock it off,” Dean shouted, pushing them away. His eyes met Castiel’s and the man looked furious. Instead of using the gate, he climbed over the fence, landing with a thud next to where Castiel and Max were standing. “You did that on purpose,” he said angrily. He had mud smeared on his face and Castiel felt a wave of guilt. 

“Farm life isn’t for sissies,” Castiel stated firmly. “Clyde can be feisty with strangers, but he wouldn’t cause you harm. Most of our animals are used to being handled and are usually well-mannered. I do apologize for his behavior.” 

“Sure you do,” Dean snarled. “What’s next? You want me to stick my hand in a beehive?” 

“Of course not, Dean, that would be counterproductive.” Max was eyeing both of them, a curious look on his face. “I’ve got to take first watch on the does that will probably give birth today. Why don’t you and Max go over to the orchards and pick some apples and pears.” 

Dean didn’t wait for Max. He stomped off and Castiel winced. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pulled that prank on Dean. Balthazar was right, Castiel wasn’t usually mean. He bit his lip, his eyes were on the herd, but his mind was telling him he owed Dean an apology. “Perhaps he’d like a pie, huh, girls?” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to have updates on my stories, fun discussions, contests, and friendship, go to my FB page - palominopup+18.


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